Shades of Whumptober
by Amynion
Summary: A few prompt fills for Whumptober 2018.
1. Stabbed

**Note:** I've always wanted to do one of these challenges, and the prompts for this were drawing me in. I was mad to even contemplate it though. I just don't have the time :( Still, I've got a couple done, and I've sketched outlines for a few others. I thought it was better to post than not. I make no promises on ever getting these finished (too many other WIPs on the go!).

We're in a modern AU for this first chapter. It's entirely the fault of an incredible video by Muse of Music set to Ólafur Arnalds "Only The Winds". Alas, this site is not link or copy paste friendly, you can find it on Youtube!

I watched it and caught the feels. I highly recommend giving it a watch and catching the feels too. Of course I had to make things a bit more angsty. Enjoy!

* * *

 **1\. Stabbed**

It was getting dark. The world was cast in a half light where neither the sun nor moon held sway. Stray smoke drifted over the rooftops from dotted chimneys. It tainted the cold taste of the air. Aramis smiled as he took it in. He had found the perfect gift amongst the rows of rings on display. The jewellery shop had caught his eye when they stopped at the restaurant across the road. And she caught his eye in the reflection of the window.

Anne.

His breath caught in his throat. She was everything. There was nothing he could say to her beauty, her grace. Words cheapened everything that she was. She was his world. Unfortunately she was wed to a powerful man of means, and Aramis was just a bodyguard. He looked over the trinkets. A small gift, a ring, it would not be noticed. Her husband was inattentive, he didn't see what he had. She was little more than a possession to him, he wouldn't notice. Aramis couldn't fathom such blindness, he was so in love he thought the whole world could see. Athos certainly had, and he warned Aramis off. He didn't want Aramis to guard Anne today, but with Porthos and d'Artagnan away on another job he had nobody else.

So Aramis had followed Anne around as she ran errands. And in the bright sunlight of a crowded city they seemed more a couple than a woman and a man in her employ. Perhaps they had forgotten who they really were. He wouldn't have let his guard down otherwise. He wouldn't have left her and wandered across the street. He had a job to do. This was his job. But it was getting late, he would have to buy the ring before the shop closed. He would be quick.

Aramis gave Anne's reflection one last look before going in. She was watching him. Delicate fingers wrapped around a wine glass. She must have known what he was doing, this wouldn't be a surprise. Maybe he should have come back another day. He was just seized with a need to do this now. While they were still in the moment. While she was…

Two shadows marred the reflection and reached out. Anne shot to her feet. The glass dropped and smashed against the table. Aramis whipped around and everything seemed to slow down, a strange quiet fell. Their eyes met across the road. And suddenly nothing mattered more than getting to each other. Two men grabbed Anne's arms, but she pulled forwards against them, her eyes locked on to Aramis. He stepped out into the road. Water shot up from a puddle he charged through. The drops seemed to take an eternity to fly around him. One arm slipped away from her captor and Anne reached out towards Aramis. Her fingers straining, desperate.

And he knew it was there. It almost seemed like it didn't matter. He saw it out of the corner of his eye. The car. It went into his legs and crumpled around him. The windshield shattered and sprayed a rain of glass. The car bucked upwards, while Aramis was jarred sideways. He closed his eyes and stood firm. But he couldn't bear not to see her, not even for a moment. Shards of glass flew around him, and he looked to her again. The car fell back, forgotten. She slipped free and moved forwards. Both untouched. They reached out amongst sparkling glass. Their hands met, and they came together. Their eyes closed and lips…

Aramis came to with a harsh gasp. A darkened room and the steady beeping told him he was in a hospital. He lay there letting the numbness of grief and medication wash over him. He was alone. Beyond his room was the muffled noise of a nurse going about her rounds, but here there was nothing. Aramis closed his eyes against a tear. It still fell. He clumsily wiped at his face, not taking too much care over the drip in the back of his hand. His eyes cast about the room, but he took none of it in. He just wanted to go back to the place where he had been. The place where they had met in the middle of the road. Aramis wanted to return to the moment he had been snatched away from. His eyes closed and he willed himself back. But there was no gentle touch. There was no meeting of hands. He couldn't go back there. It was lost to him. Something else took its place.

"Anne!" He screamed her name and shot into the road, adrenaline overriding all sense.

Two men held her back by the arms. She cried out for him. And then a knife drew towards Anne's throat. The fear in her eyes, he couldn't bear it. Aramis had to get to her.

And he knew it was there. It almost seemed like it didn't matter. He saw it out of the corner of his eye. The car. It went into his legs and he crashed up over the hood. The windshield shattered under the impact of his body. Pain exploded all through Aramis. As the car came to a screeching halt he rolled back down and hit the road. His cheek grazed the tarmac, but his only thought was for her. His eyes threatened to close against the encroaching darkness, they still sought her out.

"Aramis!" Anne screamed.

And he found her, just in time to see the knife come down.

She was...

She was gone.

And he lay alone, broken, in a hospital bed.

His legs were a mess, he knew that much. The rest of him ached fiercely from the impact. He didn't care if he never walked again though. She was _gone_. There was nothing left to him apart from the fragmented memories of stolen moments.

Aramis' mind searched through them. Between the concussion and the drugs it wasn't that easy, but one shining moment came through - The day they first met. It was a job like any other. Athos and Aramis went along to speak with a new client. "The King" he was known amongst the people. He was a powerful man with a lot of fingers in a lot of pies, and not all of them legitimate. Still, he had the money and they were in desperate need of it. Louis entered the room with his wife on his arm. They sat down and Aramis was instantly enraptured. She looked to Athos, concentrating on what he was saying, but then her eyes flicked to Aramis. A polite gesture, but then she seemed to look at him, really _look_. And they were lost. The world outside ceased to exist. Time slowed. Conversation flowed on around them, distant and inconsequential. They were the only two people in the room, in the _world_. The longing, the need to be there right next to her, it was overwhelming. He wanted to reach out to her, but he kept his hands neatly folded in his lap.

The meeting ended. Athos and Louis got to their feet. Aramis and Anne followed suit. The moment shattered. But hands were being shaken, and finally he could touch her. Palm to palm, it was all they were allowed. He would give anything for more. But they broke apart. Athos took his arm and propelled him to the door, Louis offered an arm to Anne. Their eyes lingered over their shoulder as they were torn asunder. The door closed. Aramis could breathe again.

"No." Had been Athos' first word when they got back to the car.

"What?"

" _What?_ " Athos mocked. "Don't take me for a fool. I know you've got your eye on her and I'm putting my foot down before you even start."

"We've only just met!"

"I can tell! You think I could work with you all these years and remain blind to your _way_ of falling for women left, right and centre."

"This is different."

"As you've said - you've only just met. How can you tell? God, don't answer that. Whatever this is, whatever _that_ was in there. It stops. I'm drawing a line."

"As you wish."

But he was powerless against it. For she was ensnared as he was. This thing between them burnt brightly and if it wasn't acted on it would consume them both. But she was still a married woman and he was a bodyguard in her husband's employ. If they lived different lives, if they were different people, maybe they could have been something.

And ifs were also consuming Aramis. If he hadn't left her to look at the rings, if he hadn't run in front of the car, if he had reached her in time… Maybe she would be here.

The longer he lay there the more his thoughts tortured him.

If he hadn't fallen for her. If he had stayed away.

Maybe his love had killed her.

He stared blankly at the ceiling as nurses flitted in around him. They made adjustments. They spoke. But he wouldn't respond. The doctor came in to talk to him. Aramis heard the words, he just couldn't take them in.

"There'll be more surgery, and extensive physiotherapy. You'll need to learn to walk again at the very least, but I'm hopeful you will walk again. Only time will tell I'm afraid."

It didn't matter. He didn't care.

"Oh, I'll check on you later, you've got a visitor."

Still he stared at the ceiling through blurred eyes. He didn't want to see anybody.

There was the squeak of a wheelchair and then a soft voice.

"Aramis?"

A gentle touch met his hand, and finally he canted his head to one side.

He wondered if it was his mind doing this. Was he twisting reality to make everything alright again? Just as he stood firm while a car crumpled around his body. Was this the impossible?

She squeezed his hand and met his eyes with a look that pulled at his very being.

"I'm here."


	2. Bloody Hands

**2\. Bloody Hands**

He was used to it by now.

The first time he was on some battlefield, trying to stem the blood from his friend's wound. He couldn't hold it all in. It wouldn't stop. He stared at his hands for what seemed like hours afterwards.

Then of course there was _that place_. A forest in the snow. Red against white. He did what he could as the last few alive expired around him. When they were gone he plunged his hands into the snow and screamed. He needed to be clean. He was never clean. He would never be clean again.

And the friends whose flesh he sewed. His frantic hands worked, slick, red, fingers doing their best to hold on to a needle that meant the difference between life and death. Now he knew what to do. Now he had watched and read, he wouldn't let another bleed out while he pressed useless hands against a gaping wound. He had saved them time and again, Porthos more than most. His hands had saved them.

He was used to seeing bloody hands.

But not this.

He looked down at his side. At the hands he clasped tight against his own flesh.

Not this.


	3. Insomnia

**Note:** I don't usually like to post things until they're finished. Actually, I had no intention of finishing these prompts in the first place. Just a few that caught my interest... just a few.

60 pages. I have written 60 fecking pages worth of material and it's still not nearly done. HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?!

So, I'm going to have to start getting some of these things posted.

Meanwhile the WIP mountain looms menacingly from the corner. Halp.

And I should probably mention we're in a modern AU for this one...

* * *

 **3\. Insomnia**

"Just close your eyes."

Porthos' gentle voice drifted across the room.

"Close them. That's it… that's-"

His eyes fluttered closed for a moment before they shot wide open again.

"Give it another try. Go on."

He couldn't.

"You nearly had it then."

He _couldn't_ close his eyes.

"Have you tried counting sheep?"

"Bodies…" His cracked voice was barely audible.

"Hm?"

"Counting bodies… like sheep."

Porthos came closer. The side of his bed dipped.

"There are no bodies, Aramis."

But there were.

Every time he closed his eyes. Bodies. Strewn about like dolls cast aside and forgotten.

"I don't want to see them."

"There are no bodies." Porthos repeated, his voice firmer, surer. "Please, just close your eyes and try. I'll count the sheep with you if you like."

Aramis let his eyelids drop. They did feel heavy, and Porthos was awfully insistent.

He felt Porthos take his hand. "Let's make a start. One… two…"

A slight knock at the door and his eyes flew open. Porthos muttered a curse under his breath before going to answer.

The voices at the door were quiet, but Aramis still caught some of the words.

"You've had long enough."

"Please, just a little longer, I was getting somewhere."

"You said that yesterday, and the day before." A heavy sigh. "This is for his own good. You know it is."

"You didn't see him after… last time…he…"

"I was hoping it wouldn't come to this - Porthos, you can move aside, or you can step outside. I have men here who will help with the latter."

"Alright, alright." Porthos backed off.

And then there was a new presence at his side. Aramis couldn't see who it was or what he was doing. The room was mostly in darkness with just a single lamp in deference to his aching head.

Porthos appeared on the other side of his bed.

"Please, don't do this."

A strange sensation flooded through him. His muscles relaxed and his eyes closed against his will. He felt like he was being dragged down away from the world. Aramis reached out and scrabbled against it, but his fingers didn't so much as twitch. He felt Porthos take his hand, and then he felt nothing.

He opened his eyes on powdered ground.

And after he screamed he began to count.


	4. No, stop!

**AN:** A bit of lighthearted relief amid the angst. This one is set early on in the Inseparables relationship.

* * *

 **4\. "No, stop!"**

"No, stop!"

Aramis blinked his eyes and groaned. His head ached, and his arm was _unbearable_. Athos had been tugging at it, and the limb in question was not currently attached to the rest of his body.

"Aramis?"

"Wha… what happened?"

"You fell down some stairs."

Well, that would do it.

"We were chasing a thief, do you remember?"

That part was a little fuzzy…

"Did we get him?"

"We are still in pursuit, as far as I know. Porthos went after him while I stopped to pick you up."

Aramis instantly made a move to get up. A move that was just as quickly aborted with an agonised yell.

"What do you think you are doing?"

"We have to get after them! Porthos could be in danger!"

"You're in no state to go anywhere! In fact, you're a little more damaged than we realised…" Athos' worried eyes fell on his arm. "Besides, the thief looks like a waif from the depths of the court. Porthos is easily twice his size."

"Then how did he get the better of me?"

"I'm afraid you got the better of yourself. It was nothing more treacherous than a misstep."

"Oh…"

If he was wasn't overwhelmed with pain Aramis would probably have felt the blush of embarrassment colour his cheeks.

"That arm needs seeing to." Athos made a move for the limb.

"No!" Aramis would have whipped it out of reach if he had been able. "I've just woken to you pulling at my arm like a rope attached to a horse that's dug its heels in. Have you ever set a shoulder before?"

"I've… er… I've seen it done."

"Then it can wait till we get back to the garrison." Aramis held his other hand out for Athos to help him up.

Athos eyed it warily. "It is a fair walk to the garrison. Would you at least let me have a go?"

"' _Have a go'_? Athos, you're not playing a game of quoits at the fair. You're putting my shoulder back in, and I would rather it was done properly."

"It's going to take a while for us to get back, and who knows how long to summon a physician. You're in pain, you don't have to be."

"I'm likely to be in a lot more pain if I let you go at it."

"It would be useful for me to learn. Then I'll be ready for next time."

"There won't be a next time if I can help it." Aramis swallowed against a wave of nausea. God, it hurt. "Alright, come here."

Aramis shuffled himself into position and showed Athos where to hold his arm. "Brace your foot against my side. Pull firmly in that direction, steady, and hard. Don't let up. Not even if I scream. And Athos…"

"Yes?"

"This time, if I tell you to stop, ignore me."

Athos took a hold of Aramis and gave him a questioning look. "Ready?"

"Do it."

The pulling began and the pain ratcheted up to obscene levels. It scorched down Aramis' arm, through his chest. Every part of him felt on fire.

Aramis cried out.

"No, stop! Athos! Please!"

But Athos paid no attention to his yelling or begging. Not until Aramis' shoulder popped neatly back into place. Athos let go and fell back, while Aramis went limp and gasped for breath as if he'd run several laps around Paris.

The all consuming pain was now a dull throb. When Aramis' breath had calmed a little he turned to face Athos.

"Th… thank you."

Athos looked a little pale and shocked. "Yes, please make sure there isn't a next time."

Aramis huffed a slight laugh and held out his good arm.

"I'll just avoid stairs for a good while." Aramis winced as Athos pulled him to his feet. "Please inform Treville I'll regretfully be unable to attend his office. Far too many steps you see."

"I get the feeling he's regretting putting us three together."

"Nonsense." Aramis fumbled with his doublet as he tried to tuck his arm inside for support. "It isn't our fault we er… we…"

"Attract trouble?"

"Well, that wouldn't be my choice of words."

Athos stepped forward to help after watching Aramis struggle. "He wasn't pleased with the horse situation I got into. And then there was the incident with the cat. Porthos couldn't walk for weeks afterwards."

"Very well, I'll stay away from stairs. You stay away from horses with a fear of small dogs, and we'll both keep Porthos away from overly affectionate cats."

"That might be easier said than done."

"We can but try! Now, let's get going to the nearest tavern."

"What about your arm?"

"It's fine, it only needs to be put in a sling. I also require a medicinal drink. Judging by your complexion you could do with one too."

Athos gave him a pointed look. "And you'll be the one buying."


	5. Poisoned

**5\. Poisoned**

There was an irritating stream of words boring into Athos' head. It felt like they had been going on for hours. Rising and falling, quiet and pleading, then rushed and desperate. There weren't any words that he could discern, it was just noise.

His eyes were heavy, and his hands equally so. He would have reached out to bat at the voice if he could. Perhaps a solid cuff would cease the flow. But Athos felt half dead. He dredged through his thoughts to see if he could work out why, but there was nothing.

In his fruitless search for answers the noise had started forming into words. Prayer. Somebody was praying beside him. Athos managed to crack an eye open and found Aramis worrying at a rosary. His eyes were closed and a frown marred his features as he frantically whispered to every saint he knew.

Athos heaved a sigh and found his own rusted voice.

"Save your breath... I'm not the kind you pray for."

Aramis' eyes shot open. He looked at Athos as if he had risen from the grave. The shock passed and confusion took its place.

"Why would you say that?"

"I don't deserve prayers. Not yours or anyone else's."

Athos coughed, his voice rough. Aramis helped him to a drink.

"Perhaps those who think they don't deserve prayer are in need of it most." Aramis was quiet a moment. His eyes seemed to contemplate the depths of the cup between his hands. "Why do you do it? Why do you poison yourself so?"

So that's what had happened… A blurred memory of a bottle, and another, and another…

"Because I'm lost, Aramis. I'm lost and I don't deserve your prayers or your concern. So kindly leave me be." Athos didn't know why the question stoked some irritation in his heart.

Aramis fixed his eyes on Athos then. "I thought you wouldn't live to see morning. Do you know that you nearly stopped breathing?" His voice seemed to grow harder and colder with every word. "Is it a grave you want? You know the earth won't give a damn if you're lost."

Athos looked away to the ceiling and tried to fend off the threat of tears. He didn't want a grave. He just wanted to forget. Each drink blurred the lines of memory until she was gone, and he had never…

Aramis' voice turned soft once more. "I've prayed over too many brothers who never woke again. Don't make me pray over one more. And I will keep praying for you Athos. The lost can always be found."

"What if they don't want to be?" He still couldn't look at Aramis.

"Sometimes they don't have a choice in the matter. I happen to know Porthos is very determined when it comes to finding things he has lost."

The hint of humour drew Athos' eyes back down from the ceiling. He wanted to say something. The words just wouldn't come. A smile was beyond him at the best of times. He just hoped he managed to convey a warm sort of understanding through his eyes alone.

"Now I'd better get to morning muster. I'll tell Treville you're not well. You stay where you are, I can only imagine how awful you're feeling."

With that Aramis donned his hat and made his exit. Athos watched the door long after he had gone. He wasn't sure what he had done to gain such loyalty from the man, or from Porthos for that matter. He hadn't set out to make friends, but they warmed to him nevertheless. Treville started regularly sending them out on missions together, and they did seem to make a good team. Maybe it was Savoy. Athos had heard what happened of course. His commission came quickly to bolster the depleted ranks after all. Perhaps Aramis was hoping to save one for the twenty he could not.

Athos didn't want to be saved.

But some small part of him wondered if he should let Aramis try. 

* * *

**AN** : With thanks to Radical Face's "Holy Branches" for a couple of lines, and all the inspiration it provides through my fic.


	6. Betrayed

**6\. Betrayal**

 _get alone, get alone often  
_ _and if you can't sleep alone  
_ _be careful of the words you speak in your sleep_

Aramis was hunched over with an arm tight across his chest when he stumbled into the garrison. He made a good effort at straightening himself as he carefully walked to the table, but it clearly cost him. Aramis near enough felt the blood drain from his face.

Porthos was playing a card game with d'Artagnan. He looked up to give a nod of acknowledgement, and then narrowed his eyes.

"What the hell happened to you?"

d'Artagnan twisted around to rake his own eyes over Aramis. "It's usually Athos who turns up in that sort of a state."

Aramis managed a wan smile. "Nothing to concern yourselves with. And speaking of Athos, where is he?"

"I think you should lie down, you don't look at all well." Porthos put his cards down and made to get up.

"No need." Aramis swiftly raised a palm. "Athos?"

"Won't you let me help you?" There was something in Porthos' voice that sounded hurt.

"Aramis, you look like a strong breeze would blow you over." d'Artagnan helpfully added.

"Don't worry about me, just carry on with your game." The hand across his chest turned into a tight fist. "Now, Athos, _please_." The tone of his voice brooked no argument.

"Check the stables, he's just got in."

Aramis could feel their eyes on him as he made his way to the stables. The moment he was out of sight he bent over and leaned against the nearest post.

"Athos?" He hissed between gritted teeth.

"Yes?" His voice came from a box further down. The clink of tack being removed could just be heard.

"I need you."

"What for?"

"Please, just come with me."

At that Athos poked his head out and frowned. "Are you alright?"

"Come with me, and don't let on to the others that anything's amiss as we pass by."

Athos shouted for the stable boy to finish brushing his horse down and then he followed Aramis, offering a subtle hand to the elbow when he wavered. The two crossed the yard as far away from the table and the sullen card game as they could.

Aramis led Athos back to his room. He stood in the middle, still with an arm clutched tight to his chest.

"Now will you tell me what this is about?"

Aramis seemed suddenly unsure. His fingers twitched towards the opening of his doublet, they shook, then turned to fists. His gaze dropped to the floor.

"Aramis, you wanted my help." Athos took a step towards his friend. "Let me help."

Athos reached out towards Aramis' doublet. At first Aramis made as if to shy away, but then he seemed to give in and let Athos open it up.

"Who did this?" Athos' voice turned hard as he revealed a shirt stained red beneath.

"It's my fault."

"Unless you stabbed yourself I can hardly see how that's true."

"It is."

"Let me have a look. Get this off."

Athos helped to remove Aramis' doublet, but when he went to peel away the bloodied shirt Aramis seemed to hesitate and hold on to it.

"Aramis, I need to see the wound."

He made no move to comply.

"Would you rather stand there and bleed to death?" Athos sighed. "What is the matter with you?"

"What you're going to see… It's… I can… I can explain…"

Athos reached forwards to pull up the shirt and found a crudely etched word seeping blood down Aramis' front.

JUDAS

"What on earth…?" Athos put a hand to his mouth in disbelief. "I'm going to clean this up and you're going to explain. Sit down."

Aramis took a seat on his bed while Athos went about gathering a few supplies. While Aramis had said he could explain, it still wasn't easy. He asked for Athos because he knew the man would be discrete. Plus he was aware of certain facts the others were not. Porthos would be full of rage, and d'Artagnan… well, he wasn't known for being tight lipped. Still, it didn't make this any easier.

How had this happened? He should have seen it coming...

 _Earlier..._

"This is new…"

Aramis gave a sly smile as little Lottie tied his arms to the bed. But he was slightly confused. This wasn't her usual style.

She went to work on his legs and gave a coy smile of her own. "Oh but this is all the rage amongst the girls you know."

"You er… often talk about bondage in polite company?"

"Well, we sit there sewing and gossiping while you men are around. Then as soon as you're out the door talk turns to bedroom tricks."

"Maybe next time I'll have to listen at the door."

"I wouldn't, your ears might start burning."

Little Lottie came to straddle Aramis. She gently teased her fingers down his chest. "Oh, but I've forgotten something!"

She leaped off the bed and went to rifle through Aramis' discarded belongings until she came back with his dagger.

"Another bedroom trick…?" He was starting to get a little worried as she drew the point of the dagger delicately down the path her fingers had taken just a moment ago.

"Only for certain men." Her smile turned dangerous.

"Would you mind loosening the ties a little? I fear I'm beginning to lose the feeling in my hands. And I'm going to need them before this night ends." He tried to inject a little lasciviousness into his voice but it fell flat.

"Do you want to know what kind of men this is for?"

She dug the point in.

"Traitors."

And she pulled.

Aramis bucked up against the unexpected pain, but she didn't shift an inch. Little Lottie slashed at his flesh again, and suddenly she didn't seem so little.

"Stop! What are you doing?!"

But she carried on, determined in her work.

"Lottie! For the love of God, why?!"

She stopped then. She stopped and glared at Aramis with such hatred. She bared her teeth as she spat an answer. "Anne. Beautiful Anne. With such golden hair and so many other virtues that no doubt make her a more welcoming lay than me!"

"What are you talking about?!"

"Oh Aramis, my dear, poor Aramis. You talk in your sleep. Did you not know? You told me all about your beloved whore. I feel I know her better than I know myself. While you lay between my sheets you whispered your love for another. How could you betray me?!"

She dug particularly deep with the next cut. Aramis couldn't help but let out a yell.

"I haven't! Honest to God and all the saints above, I have not seen her! And it was just the on-" The dagger sliced deep. "JUST THE ONCE! Before you!"

"LIAR!" She dug her nails in just as deep. "You would not speak so fondly of a fleeting dalliance! I know your heart! You traitor! You Judas!"

"Please, believe me Lottie. I can't be with her. _I can't_ …"

"Even if I believed you, does that mean you would be with her if you could? You are not making things better!"

"I want you!"

"Stop lying!" She struck him about the face. And then with a flourish she finished. "Let's see what your whore makes of this."

"Lottie, please…"

"Go back to her. I never want to see you again. When I return you had better be gone."

"LOT-" She crashed the pommel into his head and everything went black.

Aramis wasn't sure how much time had passed before he woke up. He was alone, and his bonds were cut. Gingerly he sat up and winced as he looked down at Lottie's handiwork. JUDAS. The word was scored into his sore and weeping flesh. As Aramis took it in something inside him crumpled. He was caught between devastation and anger.

Aramis eased his way off the bed and retrieved his belongings. He delicately pulled his shirt on, and wrapped his doublet tight about him. He didn't want anybody to see. The wounds stung fiercely. They might need stitches, and they would have to be cleaned up at the very least. But he didn't want anybody to know. Beneath the devastation and anger was a rising tide of shame.

Porthos would be angry for the both of them. He would want revenge, he would be out for blood. Aramis didn't want that. d'Artagnan wouldn't keep this to himself… _If you don't tell him, I will_ … He had learnt that much from Marsac's return. Athos, it would have to be Athos. He was good with secrets, and he knew the truth of Anne.

So he slunk back to the garrison, an arm tight against his chest in an attempt to slow the blood flow and conceal it from view.

 _Now..._

"And so you see, this is my fault. I brought this on myself. I betrayed myself…"

"A man can hardly be condemned for talking in his sleep. Just be thankful you did not say any more. You could have woken in a prison cell."

Athos had finished cleaning and stitching. He helped Aramis to sit up and started on the bandages.

"She hated me for an affair that wasn't an affair. But I still feel responsible, I still feel… shame. How can I explain it to her? How can I make things right?"

"My friend, I think it better to let this lie. She believes what she believes, and there is no way you can prove your innocence. Besides, she isn't the first heart you've broken. Move on. Although I would suggest a little time alone would be most wise."

"You know me, I'm not so good at being alone."

"Just until this little sleep talking problem goes away. Don't forget my neck is on the line as well. I'll sleep beside you if I have to, just to ensure your silence."

Aramis looked down and fingered the bandages thoughtfully.

Athos squeezed his bare shoulder. "With any luck they won't scar."

"Athos… thank you. And don't tell the others."

"My lips are sealed. I just hope yours are too."

Aramis tried for a small smile. Perhaps some alone time was well overdue.

* * *

 **AN:** Quote is by Charles Bukowski.


	7. Kidnapped

**AN:** I'm so sorry for dropping the ball on posting this! It's life, getting in the way as it always does. I can't believe Whumptober 2019 has finished and I'm still on 2018... buh. Anyway, this whole thing is now clocking in at 126 pages and it's still going. I don't seem to do the whole short, one shot, thing very well. A lot of these want to spin off into 20 chapter fics of their own, and I am desperately trying to stop them.

So here we are at number 7. Kidnapping. This is one I was stuck on, so I left it blank while I wrote others. Eventually I just told myself to sit down and write something dammit. It was late at night. I hope it makes sense.

* * *

 **7\. Kidnapped**

"You've been requested for a mission."

Aramis shuffled uneasily from foot to foot in Treville's office. It was unusual to be sent on a mission alone… It didn't bode well.

"The Cardinal asked for you in particular."

The bad feeling intensified.

"I won't lie to you, Aramis. I don't like it. But you are the man with the skills needed. I wouldn't blame you if you refused."

"I can hardly refuse an order, Captain."

"I haven't made it one yet." He leaned on the desk and eyed Aramis carefully. "This information comes from the Cardinal, it is his idea, and I fear it involves his sort of shadowy subterfuge."

"What is the mission?"

"The King is holding a party, naturally all the important folk are going, including Alvarez the Spanish ambassador. With the rising anti-Spanish sentiment the Cardinal has received information that there will be an attempt on his life. You have been selected to guard him."

"Why me? Could you not simply increase the musketeer guard?"

"Let me finish. There's more - The Cardinal has also heard there may be a spy in the ambassador's retinue. He has not been successful in identifying the spy as of yet. So his idea is to send you along as part of the retinue, under the guise of simply guarding the ambassador."

"And I am to see if I can identify the spy?"

"That seems to be the gist of it."

"As well as guard the ambassador?"

"When it comes down to it, there will be enough musketeers to see to his safety. Your priority will be the spy." Treville sat back and let out a heavy sigh. "I cannot say where any of this information has come from. I cannot speak to its veracity…"

"But should it be true I am the only musketeer who can fit in with the Spanish retinue and speak their language."

"Quite."

"I'll do it." He spoke without hesitation.

"I still haven't made it an order yet."

"There is no need. I will do my duty."

"Very well. Just be careful." Treville levelled a knowing look at Aramis. 'Careful' wasn't exactly his middle name. "I'll take you off roster, spend the next few days ingratiating yourself with the ambassador's company. While you're at it find yourself some clothes fit for the King's party."

 **~oOo~**

Aramis straightened as he stepped into the palace. It was a place he was intimately familiar with of course, but this time he was entering as a civilian. He felt almost naked without his pistols and other weaponry. Still, he had kept a rapier on his person. He didn't want to come heavily armed as if expecting a battle, but often highborn folk liked a sword at their hip. Half wouldn't know one end from the other when it came to a fight, but it was all about being showy. And if there was one thing Aramis could do, it was be showy. Constance helped him pick out a stunning blue outfit, fit for the King himself. It was a little long in the arm, but it made him look the part like nothing else.

He pulled at his sleeves as he looked around. Aramis spotted several musketeers, in uniform and out, and several charming young women as well. He flashed a smile and brought his attention back to the ambassador who had been chattering away while Aramis assessed the room. In fact he had barely stopped chattering these past few days. Alvarez seemed quite excited at having a guard who spoke his language. He barely drew breath between waxing lyrical about his home land, quizzing Aramis on his heritage, and chuntering about the difficulties between their countries. Although he was also careful not to say too much.

Aramis herded Alvarez along to the palace greeting party. As they moved down the line he tried not to share too much of a look with the Queen, or the Cardinal for that matter. He released a breath when they walked out into the main room. At one end were tables set out for what would no doubt be an exquisite meal, at the other end musicians played a slow but regal number. The floor would be filled with dancers later, but now it held nobles greeting and talking. The noise was an annoying hum beneath the tuneful playing.

The ambassador made a beeline for what seemed to be an old friend judging by the overly warm greeting. A few of the Spaniards went to mingle, Aramis and one other followed the ambassador. This was one of his suspects. An older man named Rosas. He had been in France for many a year, serving the ambassador and the ambassador before him. From what Aramis could gather he seemed a little jaded from his years of service, and thought they got little from France for all they gave. Could the sentiment lead him to serve his country through more insidious means? Aramis let his gaze rove the room searching out the other he suspected. He was the opposite to Rosas in every way. Vidales, a young man not long arrived from Spain. He seemed overly eager with new ideas and new ways of doing things. Just from Aramis' short few days with them he had already detected a level of frustration with his older companions who were somewhat stuck in their ways. Perhaps to get around them he was resorting to subterfuge to achieve his goals.

A tight feeling took Aramis' chest as he struggled to spot Vidales. How could he have lost the man already?! Just then he spotted Porthos move to stand guard against the wall where the ambassador's crowd gathered. He caught Aramis' eye and gave a subtle nod. Aramis gave a slight smile and moved off. Porthos would make sure the ambassador was safe, and Rosas seemed deep in discussion with them, he wasn't going anywhere any time soon.

Aramis wound his way through the crowds as quickly as he could without looking too urgent. Vidales was nowhere to be seen amongst the talking nobles. The panic started to rise, and then he spotted an open door that led out into the gardens. As casually as possible he walked over and peered out. The cool night air was a balm to his skin, and sure enough standing out there was Vidales. A young woman stood next to him at a distance that wasn't entirely proper. He took her hand and pressed a delicate kiss to it. At seeing that Aramis gave a smirk and withdrew back to the main room. What he would give to swap places and woo one of the many ladies present. But he was here on business, important business at that, and he couldn't let himself get distracted by any pretty faces. Still, there was one pretty face he couldn't help but get distracted by. Aramis' eyes followed the Queen as she swept into the room and went to take her place at the table. If only he could sit by her, if only…

It wouldn't do to even think about. He had to forget about her and all of the 'maybes' and 'if onlys'. He was here to find the spy and protect the ambassador. Nothing else. Athos and d'Artagnan went to stand behind the King and Queen. Aramis went to sit with the ambassador's contingent. Happily Porthos planted himself nearby, it settled Aramis' nerves some. He was starting to feel the pressure of looking for threats to the ambassador and finding the spy. The latter had to be his priority. With Porthos at his back it took some of the pressure off. Alvarez was well protected. Thus began the finest meal Aramis had ever eaten in his life. It was such a shame he was too distracted to really enjoy it. He was keeping a close eye on Rosas and Vidales. Rosas was doing a little chuntering in Spanish, complaining about one of the nobles with lands at the border. There seemed to be some kind of ongoing dispute, and the man had said something to offend him tonight. Rosas had a few harsh words for the King as well for his lack of intervention. Meanwhile Vidales was speaking to his young lady, talking about his time in France, and how he would like to change things. Aramis felt like pulling his hair out. The spy could be either of them. Or maybe it was neither and the Cardinal had bad information. Aramis huffed a laugh to himself at that.

Once the meal was finished the musicians started up a lively gigue. Those who didn't wish to dance retired to a quieter adjacent room. Aramis cursed under his breath. Vidales went to dance with his lady, while Rosas followed the ambassador to the next room. He hovered in the doorway for a moment before deciding to sit with Alvarez. It seemed Vidales would be occupied for at least a dance or two, and he was here under the guise of guarding the ambassador after all. They took a seat and Alvarez started up his endless chatter again. Truth be told Aramis only half listened, he was keeping half an eye on Rosas and half an eye on the rest of the room. Porthos casually walked by in the background and Aramis felt that sense of relief again. Then Rosas excused himself and went for the door. The now faint gigue sounded like it was coming to an end too. It would look suspicious to get up and follow Rosas straight away, but he really had to get out there to see where both of his suspects were. Aramis looked to the door and let out a slight breath, there was Vidales, waylaid by a servant and a tray of drinks. Aramis heart beat wildly as he looked over and caught Aramis watching him, Vidales raised a glass and gave a smile and a nod before heading towards them.

"Mm, the wine is particularly fine. You should try some, Ambassador."

"Yes, yes, all in good time." Alvarez waved him off. He almost seem to treat the man as an impetuous youth.

"Well, if you'll excuse me I've promised the next dance to a most delightful Mademoiselle."

After finishing his glass Vidales retreated back to the dance floor. He gave the impression he had better things to do than spend time in a room full of prattling old men.

"He'll learn soon enough. Often more diplomacy happens in rooms such as these than at the official tables… Ah, speaking of which. How are you my friend?"

A fellow ambassador came to sit with them, and Aramis took this as a cue to make his excuses and stand. He needed to locate Rosas. Aramis imagined him slipping into the back and rifling through all manner of important documents. As he got to his feet and made for the door the servant approached and offered a drink, which Aramis gratefully took.

He sipped it and tried to seem nonchalant as he wandered the edge of the dance floor. In reality he was frantically scanning the room for his quarry. And there he was, the last place Aramis expected. The old dog was giving a lady a turn on the dance floor! He moved with a practiced precision that spoke of him being a fine dancer in his younger days. The lady was of maturer years and was clearly enjoying being swept off her feet. Vidales and his lady swirled by, Aramis detected a smirk on his face. He must have been as amused by the unexpected display as Aramis was.

Aramis finished his drink and set it down on an empty tray as a servant passed by. He settled in a shadowed corner to watch both of his suspects. Eventually the music came to an end and the gentlemen bowed. Vidales took his young lady by the hand and made for the gardens. There would be no need to follow him out there. Aramis knew too well what he would be up to. On the other hand Rosas looked about him and then ducked through a door that Aramis knew led towards the palace private quarters and offices. He pushed away from his perch and paused for a moment at feeling light headed. The wine must have been a strong vintage. He reached the door and waited a moment before going through. Rosas turned a corner at the end of the corridor and Aramis hurried to catch up. He stumbled and caught himself on the wall just as he reached the corner. The sound of somebody trying a locked door reached his ears. This must be his man! There were footsteps. Rosas was moving on. But they were going the wrong way, they were coming towards him! Rosas came back round the corner and came face to face with Aramis.

"Ah, my friend, I seem to have taken a wrong turn. I'm looking for the, ah… the…"

Aramis pointed back to the dance hall. "Door to the right of the musicians."

So Rosas wasn't slinking off to nose about. He had just been looking to relieve himself.

"Thank you. Say, you look as if you might need to visit yourself. Far too pale and sickly, too much wine?" He peered into Aramis' face and raised an eyebrow.

"I'm fine." Although he was feeling far from it with every passing moment. Sweat seemed to run from every pore and he could feel his limbs grow heavier by the moment.

"I should hope so. You're meant to be guarding the ambassador. If you slunk away drunk and unfit for your duties I would have some very strong words for Treville."

"I assure you, I'm fine." Aramis straightened and tried to push himself away from the support of the wall.

"Good, now pull yourself together and get back in there."

Aramis watched Rosas walk back down the corridor and go through the door. He wiped sweat from his brow and swallowed frantically. He didn't feel at all well. The walls seemed to waver, and the floor lurched beneath his feet. With each step the corridor lengthened before him.

And then a scream came from the dance hall.

Aramis half ran, half fell, until he wrenched the door open to find Vidales on the ground in the middle of the dance floor. A crowd gathered around, somebody shouted for a doctor. The world blurred. This didn't make sense. Rosas wasn't the spy, and now Vidales had been targeted. Aramis' thoughts flowed like mud. He had to get to the ambassador. Something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong.

And then there were footsteps behind him.

Aramis let go of the door and whirled around to face the threat but his legs gave way and he fell face first to the floor.

The door snicked closed behind him.

Poison, this had to be poison. Nothing else would take him out so quickly. Vidales too.

Aramis tried to call out, but he was fading fast and only managed a moan. He was struggling to take in anything more than the polished grain of the floor beneath his cheek. Everything was slipping away.

He felt a foot push into his side and turn him over onto his back, his head and limbs lolled uselessly. His failing eyesight just made out the servant from earlier towering over him.

The wine, it was the wine.

"Hello ambassador."

A hand reached down like a claw from above and Aramis knew no more.

 **~oOo~**

A blow to the face brought Aramis back to awareness. He jerked awake and soon found his arms and legs were bound to a chair as he tried to reach up to defend himself.

The fog gradually dissipated from his mind. At least he was alive. After being poisoned he wasn't so sure he would be.

"Wha… wha you wan." He slurred out, trying to make his tongue and mouth work properly.

The servant stood before him with another in the background. Of course the servant wasn't really a servant and was now dressed in other plainer clothes. Aramis rolled his eyes around the room. It seemed to be a cellar. There were barrels and packed shelves all around, but where he was beyond that he couldn't tell.

"For you to go back to Spain. In or out of a box, I don't care. Your influence here is ended."

"M'not Spanish."

The servant let out a laugh at that.

"Do you hear this?" He looked to his companion. "The Spanish ambassador isn't Spanish!"

"M'not the ambassador."

"And I'm the Queen of England." He came closer and grabbed a fistful of hair to pull Aramis' head back. "You look Spanish, you speak Spanish, and I was told you're the man we want. Don't try to lie to us, you're the ambassador."

Aramis' head was released and he let it fall to his chest. He nearly huffed out a laugh. These men thought he was the ambassador. There _had_ been an attempt on the ambassador's life and he found himself the victim. How had he been watching everywhere but his own back?

"Our leader will be here soon. Until then we're going to spend a little time with you. See what you have to say for yourself."

Aramis shook his head.

"Oh you'll say something alright."

"I'm not your man."

"I'm not interested in lies. I'm interested in what you Spaniards are plotting." He clicked his fingers. "Get him up."

The other man came to undo his bindings, the servant trained a gun on him.

"Just in case you get any ideas."

Aramis found himself suspended from a hook in the ceiling. He was pulled up so his feet barely grazed the ground.

"I can't tell you anything because I'm not the damned ambassador you idiots." He was more awake now and his blood was up.

A fist crashed into his ribs.

"You'll get tired of lying eventually."

They set upon him with fists, chains, and more. Aramis felt his blood run and ribs crack, still he goaded them for having the wrong man.

"You poor fools." Aramis spat a stream of blood to one side. "What is your leader going to say when he finds out?"

A dagger was pressed to the juncture of his shoulder, hard enough to draw blood.

"He is going to congratulate me for capturing a Spanish dog. Whatever you are, you're Spanish. I know that much."

"I'm as French as you are! My mother was Spanish, so I have her look and I picked up the language. Do you really want to know who I am?" Aramis bared bloody teeth in something caught between a snarl and a grin. "I'm a musketeer. And do you know what happens to men who kidnap and torture the King's guard?"

The dagger slashed across Aramis chest and the servant stalked away as he howled.

"We'll pick this up later." The pair put down their tools and made for the door.

Aramis was left in darkness. He trembled against the cold and the pain. He tugged at his bound hands held above his head, but there was no give, he had long ago lost the feeling in them. His head dropped to his chest and he sighed. Perhaps his brothers were looking for him... no, he _knew_ his brothers were looking for him. But whether they would find him was another matter entirely.

Aramis woke to the sound of the door opening. He had either drifted off to sleep or had fallen unconscious. He wasn't sure which. This time there was another man with the servant, and this one had an air of authority about him, though he was dressed no more finely.

"You can save yourself the pain, ambassador."

Aramis rolled his eyes. "I'm not the ambassador."

"See, still insisting he's not our man." The servant interjected.

"Then maybe you haven't been working hard enough." The newcomer scowled. He turned back to address Aramis. "Answer our questions and we'll stop. Perhaps we should start with how many Spanish agents you have infiltrating our lands?"

"I don't know because I'm not the damned ambassador!"

The servant swept forwards and crashed an iron bar into the side of his knee.

Aramis screamed. "I know there's one!"

The leader raised an eyebrow. "Go on."

"I know, because I was sent to find him at the party. It was my duty to find the spy!" Aramis gave a broken laugh. "We're after the same thing… The spies. But the ambassador has no part of that, he is a good man who seeks harmony between our countries. And most important of all - he is NOT ME!"

Aramis surged forward as he shouted and strained against his bonds.

The leader took a step back, but he didn't seem the slightest bit rattled. "Pass me that dagger."

On and on and round and round they went. Questions and torture and denial. Aramis prayed for it to end. He sagged in his chains, worn and tired and hurting.

Finally it stopped. There was some discussion between the two men, and then the leader approached.

"If you really aren't the ambassador, there is one way to be sure."

A fist crashed into Aramis' face and everything went black.

 **~oOo~**

Aramis heard voices as the key scraped into the lock.

"It's a great risk me coming here. If he sees…" A woman's voice. Curious...

"He's unconscious, and even if he does see you he's not getting out of here to tell anyone. Not alive at least."

The door opened.

A pause, and then a shout.

"You fools! It's not him!"

Aramis risked cracking his eye open a fraction.

It was Vidales' young lady.

What on earth… This didn't make any sense.

"It has to be! That's the man Vidales pointed out."

"Hush! Don't use names! He might be more awake than you realise."

Indeed.

Aramis' mind was reeling, this didn't make any sense! Vidales was poisoned, how was he in on this?

"Oh, this is a fine mess. You simpletons have got the wrong man! I've seen him before, he's a musketeer!" She was seething.

"What do you propose?"

"What do _I_ propose? So I'm the one who is supposed to sort out your mess?"

"This was your idea!" The leader roared back.

"No, you wanted to destroy the Spanish influence in France. I merely showed you a way. This is your business."

"Don't you go anywhere!"

Aramis managed to discern a dagger being brandished at the woman.

"Come to think of it, you're very involved with the Spanish. Very close to that Vidales aren't you?"

" _Names!_ " She hissed.

"How do I know you're not on their side?"

And perhaps he had blundered into the truth right there.

But then she calmed her voice and the room seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. "Alright, I know who can help to get rid of him. Just trust me, I have helped you thus far. You've made a mistake, that's all. I'm sure it was easy to confuse the two men. I'll go and see to all of this. Then I would advise you get yourselves out of Paris for a while. I can have somebody make arrangements for you, but you have to let me go."

The dagger was put away. They were back on her side again.

"Just give me a moment with him, if you please."

"What for?"

"I'd just like to have a little talk. He might not be the ambassador, but he's a _musketeer_. The King's most trusted guard. I'll bet he's heard all sorts of things..."

"He won't speak. We've tried."

"You've tried with fists and knives, there's more than one way to skin a cat. And judging by what I've heard of this particular musketeer, my way is more likely to work."

The two men huffed a bit but left her alone.

An uneasy quiet settled in the room.

"I know you're awake."

Aramis didn't move.

"No need to pretend. You've seen me. Have another look if you want to."

As Aramis raised his head she gave a tantalising pull to the top of her dress.

"So it's you. You're the spy." He accused.

The coquettish smile was so alluring.

"What a clever one you are, but not as clever as me. And those out there aren't fit to lick my shoes in that regard. They're just blunt instruments that served a purpose. I should have known they'd make a mess of things. Anyway, I've got what I wanted. Well, nearly... the ambassador still draws breath. Still, killing the ambassador was always Vidales' passion, and so he can take the fall for it. He was forever going on about sweeping away the old order and bringing in a new. Meanwhile I had a lovely look around the palace while chaos reigned and you were all lying unconscious. I found such wonderful things, especially in the Queen's most intimate drawers."

Aramis growled. "You'll be stopped."

"Oh no I won't. I'll disappear you see. Nobody will know, nobody will suspect. I'm just a girl who danced at a ball. You'll know of course, you've seen me, and heard everything now - what is the point of being so clever if there's nobody to appreciate how clever you are? But you don't know who I am, and you'll never see me again. And who will believe the poor tortured musketeer half out of his mind, seeing women... always seeing women eh?"

Aramis pulled at his bonds in frustration."One day your sins will catch up with you."

"I'm sure they will." She stepped forward and planted a kiss on Aramis' cheek. "Goodbye sweet musketeer. I'm glad to have met you."

She knocked on the door, the leader opened it and let her pass by unassailed.

Aramis painted a lazy smile on his face for the man.

"Told you so."

He roared and kicked out at Aramis before leaving.

Now Aramis was alone, the frustration at being bested by the woman was ebbing and he was starting to fear her words… _I know who can help to get rid of him_ … He needed to get out of here. Or he needed his brothers to find him quickly. Aramis stiffly looked up at his hands. He would have to pray for the latter.

 **~oOo~**

Aramis drifted for a while, somewhere between sleep and the waking world.

A gunshot brought him fully awake.

There was shouting and more shots.

Aramis braced himself as the door blew open.

He could have cried. It was Porthos!

He rushed over and immediately set about trying to free Aramis. Athos came in a moment later and helped lift Aramis from the hook.

"Thank God, thank God…" It was all Aramis could manage.

He cried out as they laid him down. The blood rushing back into his arms was like being tortured all over again.

"We've got you." Porthos cradled his head and rubbed up and down his arms.

"Vidales!" Aramis rallied thinking of the mission. "Arrest Vidales!"

"It's all in hand. Just rest." Athos came to kneel at his other side.

"Where is she? Did you get her?"

"Don't worry about it, Aramis." Porthos shifted. "Let's get him up."

"The woman, you have to… it's her… she's behind it…"

They didn't seem to be listening to his rambling, and then as they lifted him the pain spiked beyond anything he had felt and Aramis couldn't help but pass out.

When he next came to, Aramis found himself in the infirmary. He had been stripped and stitched and bandaged. A cool cloth lay wrapped around his horribly swollen knee.

"Doctor says you're not to go walking on that for at least a week." Porthos caught him looking.

"What happened?" Aramis frowned. "How did you find me?"

"It was strange. A note came to the garrison. It told us your location, that you had been kidnapped by a band of rogues, and that Vidales was behind it all. Quite the ruse eh? When Vidales collapsed at the party we thought he was being targeted as part of the attack on the ambassador. He must have taken a bit of poison to throw us off the scent like that." Porthos reached over to give Aramis a drink. "We got the ambassador out of harm's way pretty quickly, but then we couldn't find you anywhere. So now it's my turn to ask - what happened?"

"I was poisoned. It was meant for the ambassador." Aramis could have kicked himself, but how was he to know the wine was tainted? "I saw Vidales talking to a servant, the one who poisoned me. He took a poisoned drink himself and came over, he must have been pointing out the ambassador. But we were next to each other and the fool mixed us up. I took a drink. Then Vidales and his lady went out to the garden, so I followed Rosas, I thought it was him. I got it wrong. She must have been out there gaining access another way! It was her! She was the spy, she wrapped Vidales around her finger and set up the attack on the ambassador! It's all her… Porthos, you have to believe me!"

"Alright, calm down, I believe you. Did you get a name? What did she look like?"

"No name, she had dark hair, about Constance's height…" Aramis seemed to deflate, he could be describing half the women in Paris. "We're not going to find her. I know. She knew too. It's why she told me everything. She's like a ghost in the night. But she got what she wanted, she found whatever it was she was looking for."

"There was nothing you could have done."

"We lost, Porthos. I lost…"

"You did your best. She set a good trap and we all fell into it, not just you. And whatever information she found, whatever schemes she's behind, she won't succeed. Know why?"

Aramis gave him a curious look.

"We'll be ready."


	8. Fever

**8\. Fever**

 _I run from wolves  
_ _Breathing heavily at my feet  
_ _And I run from wolves  
_ _Tearing in to me without teeth_

He couldn't breathe.

His chest worked frantically to pull in air, but it wasn't enough for his straining muscles.

He had to keep running.

He heard their breath at his back.

Getting closer.

Closer.

And closer still.

 _They held him down. Called out his name. Was it his name? He fought. Bared his teeth and warned them off. They only tightened their grip._

The frozen wind bit at his raw face as he dashed onward.

The trees closed in. Branches reached out.

Roots, tripping, trapping.

And teeth, snapping.

At the back of his heels.

Their breath ghosted his flesh.

 _A sudden shock of cold and damp. He surged up against it and was pushed back. Fingers traced his skin, ran through his hair. Gentle. A comfort. Was it meant to be a comfort? Their touch prickled his skin. He flinched against it. Whined and growled. No… please, no._

Sweat poured down his face. Even as his breath clouded the frigid air.

His legs seized.

He was done. This was it. He couldn't go on.

He fell into a clearing and they struck at his back.

He cried out as he hit the powdered ground.

Claws, teeth, tearing, ripping… missing.

Confusion.

He looked up. There was a woman kneeling in the snow. Her back was all he could see, but he could hear the wailing of a babe in her arms.

Dark shapes lay still at the corner of his eye. They were always there. In the corner, just out of sight. But always there.

Still. Silent.

He shuddered a harsh breath out.

They approached the woman. The ones that chased him here, into this nightmare place.

A bloodied man walked amongst them and reached out towards her. Red ran from his eye, a scowl marred his face.

The wolves did not need teeth to hurt him.

 _Wake up… wake up… Aramis… please…_ Suddenly it was easier to breathe. _That's it, open your eyes. Come back to us._ His eyes flickered. _The touch now soothed and helped him back_. _The cold and damp was a relief against his warm skin._

The world tilted.

The wolves melted away with the snow. He was surrounded by his brothers instead. But the other place had been so real he wasn't sure he could trust it.

"Am I… here?" His rough voice seemed so far away to his ears.

Porthos took his hand between both his own. "Yes. You are."

The look of relief on his face - all of their faces - said enough.

"Good." He paused for breath. "I much prefer it here."

"Where have you been?" Porthos' brow furrowed.

"Somewhere cold… It was different though… more than just _them_." He swallowed heavily. "I ran from wolves. They chased me there."

"You're back now, and that's all that matters." Athos spoke up and moved closer. "Do you remember what happened?"

He weakly shook his head.

"One of the hunting dogs bit you. The wound festered and you've been fevered for days. We feared the worst."

"Oh…" A sudden throb set in his arm as the wound was mentioned. Aramis pulled it out from under the sheets and held the limb up to find it wrapped tightly with a bandage. "It was all because of this? It seems such a little thing."

"The dog wasn't such a little thing, I can tell you that." d'Artagnan demonstrated the size of a small bear with his hands. "I thought it was going to have your arm off!"

"d'Artagnan here set upon it fiercely with a branch. He was very brave taking on the beast." Athos spoke wryly.

"I was going to shoot the thing myself, but the King wouldn't hear of it. Said it was his prize hunting hound!" Porthos scowled.

"What did I do to incur the dog's wrath?"

"It was reluctant to give up the kill, and you were very insistent that it do so." Athos offered Aramis a drink. "You sound awful."

Aramis managed a small smile and a word of thanks.

"The blasted thing is ill trained if you ask me."

"A recent purchase so I understand. The King took a liking to him as he's quite big and fierce - understandable. It's why we keep Porthos around after all." Athos neatly dodged a swipe from the man in question. "I don't think he quite knows his job yet though."

"And it shouldn't be allowed out until it does. They should get rid of it. Damn thing is dangerous. They wouldn't hear of it though. I hope Treville tells the King it nearly cost him one of his musketeers, see if that changes his mind."

Aramis' eyes felt heavy. They flickered and threatened to close, though he fought against it.

The battle didn't go unnoticed.

"Sleep, Aramis."

"I've only just woken. But I feel so tired, as if I've been running for miles."

"Rest now. We'll be here to keep the wolves at bay."

He closed his eyes.

And this time he felt no wolves at his back.

Only his brothers.

 _And you can follow  
_ _You can follow me_

* * *

 **AN:** Quote is from "Wolves Without Teeth" - Of Monsters and Men.

The Christmas break is affording me a bit more fic time :D I'll try and get a few more out while the going is good! Hope you've all had a lovely time :)


	9. Stranded

**AN:** As promised, another chapter while the going's good! This is one I started ages ago, got stuck, and passed over. Then inspiration hit and I ended up writing most of it on Christmas day. It really wanted to be longer, but I managed to stop it becoming a 20 chapter epic :D Quotes are from Good Bones by Maggie Smith.

* * *

 **9\. Stranded**

 _For every bird there is a stone thrown at a bird.  
_ _For every loved child, a child broken, bagged,  
_ _sunk in a lake. Life is short and the world  
_ _is at least half terrible, and for every kind  
_ _stranger, there is one who would break you_

"Do you hear that?" Aramis twisted about in his saddle.

"What?" d'Artagnan brought his horse to a halt beside Aramis.

"I thought I heard…"

And there it was, the faintest cry for help.

"Yes, I heard it."

"Aramis! We can't stop!" Athos called from the front of their party.

It was dangerous to stop.

These woods were not safe, and they were escorting the King's cousin and young son. The fine carriage was just asking to be robbed.

"There is somebody calling for help!" Aramis urged his horse off the path, listening again for the cry.

Porthos made to ride over from the front, but Athos bade him stay where he was.

" _Aramis!_ " Athos shouted. "We must keep moving!"

But Aramis ignored him.

d'Artagnan looked between the two, torn. Finally he gave a sigh. "Athos, let me and Aramis take a look. We will only be a moment."

"A moment then." Athos' baleful glare told him there would be no arguments.

It was unlike him to be so cold hearted should somebody be in need of aid. But this assignment had him on his toes. There was a foreboding feeling about this place. The close set trees barely let any light reach the ground. The air was still, and it was too quiet. Too quiet by far.

The cry came again, desperate and anguished. Aramis shot off into the trees.

"Aramis, wait!" d'Artagnan nearly got left behind.

It wasn't long before the trees thinned and gave way to a small lake. A child struggled midway out, splashing and shouting for help. Aramis was already dropping his weapons and shucking off his doublet.

"Hold on! I'm coming for you!"

He jumped in and started swimming.

d'Artagnan got off his horse and ran to the edge of the water. He watched the rescue with his heart in his mouth. The child's head kept disappearing under the surface, but Aramis was nearly on him. d'Artagnan finally released his breath when Aramis grabbed the boy and started heading back. On reaching dry land d'Artagnan helped to drag them out of the cold water.

He pulled the boy to his feet while Aramis gasped on his hands and knees.

The lad couldn't have been more than eight years old. d'Artagnan knelt down to meet his eyes. "Are you alright?"

He wrenched his arm from d'Artagnan's grasp and shot into the trees.

d'Artagnan simply stared after him. "I'll take that as a yes."

A cough from Aramis caught his attention then.

"Come on, we'd better get back before Athos leaves us behind." d'Artagnan went to help Aramis gain his feet.

They stopped in their tracks at hearing a gunshot.

"The carriage. Go!" Aramis shoved him away.

d'Artagnan mounted while Aramis grabbed his weapons and staggered over to his own horse.

Another shot sounded. d'Artagnan swore and urged his horse on.

The scene he came upon was chaos. Porthos and Athos were engaged fighting several men. One of the carriage horses was lying dead while the other was going berserk. In the doorway cowered the King's cousin.

It was a trap. It must have been a trap. The child was never in any danger. He was meant to lure them away!

d'Artagnan threw himself into the fray, while Aramis made for the carriage. He cut the spooked horse free and it bolted mindlessly into the woods. Then he went to the carriage door.

"Are you both alright?"

They were terrified, but managed a nod.

"We've got to get you out of here, you're sitting ducks."

Aramis looked back at the others, seeing Porthos dispatch his opponent he shouted and beckoned him over.

"Come on, you can ride with Porthos, he'll get you out of here."

Just then a man with his face covered gave a blood curdling cry and launched himself at Aramis. Aramis engaged the blade and stabbed him through a moment later. He looked back into the carriage to see the boy pressed in to the corner, pale and wide eyed.

Porthos drew up, his horse stamping and snorting at the action.

"Porthos is here now, you'll be safe with him." Aramis held a hand out to the boy, and then wiped it on his shirt after noticing the blood spatter. "Close your eyes and take my hand."

He shook his head and seemed to press himself further into the corner.

Aramis would have cursed had he been able. "Alright, look, your father is going to go first, he'll show you it's perfectly safe."

The man gave his son some encouraging words and then mounted behind Porthos.

"See? We'll get you on a horse with d'Artagnan, he's the fastest rider in the regiment." Aramis ducked out of the carriage and called for d'Artagnan as Porthos moved off.

And then Aramis did curse as the door on the other side of the carriage flew open and another masked man reached in. The boy screamed and shot out of the way while Aramis lashed out with his sword. This one was a little more skilled than the last, he managed to catch Aramis' arm before being run through himself. There was no time to tend the wound though. Aramis turned to get the boy to d'Artagnan and found he had run out of the carriage.

Aramis cursed again and ran after the boy. He wasn't the only one in pursuit. A masked man took up the chase and reached out dirty fingers to grab the child. Aramis shot him down before he made contact and wrapped his own arms around the boy.

"d'Artagnan!"

Things were calming down, Porthos was gone and Athos was finishing off his last opponent.

When the man lay dead on the ground he turned to them. "I must catch up to Porthos, there may be more ahead. Mount up and follow with all haste!"

d'Artagnan dispatched his own final opponent and rode over to them. "Aramis! Behind you!"

Just when he thought the battle was done he looked over his shoulder to find more men emerge from the trees.

"Take him!" Aramis lifted the child up. "Go!"

d'Artagnan charged off a couple of steps but pulled back to look at Aramis.

He managed to find his own horse and waved off d'Artagnan. "Keep going, I'm right behind you!"

Aramis wheeled around to shoot one of the men down and then he took off.

A shot sounded and Aramis felt a fire along his side.

Another shot and his horse faltered beneath him.

They crashed to the ground in a heap, Aramis managed to roll clear of his horse as it flailed in pain. And then he lay still. A voice in his head screamed at him to get up. He just couldn't seem to summon the strength in his limbs to do so.

"Is he dead?"

Footsteps approached.

A shadow fell over him.

 _Get up. You have to get up._

A foot prodded his side.

And Aramis' fingers closed around the hilt of his dagger. He shot up, striking like a viper, and thrust his dagger into the chest of the man standing before him.

"Not dead!" He yelled and got to his feet, seeming to tap into some well of anger.

The man who asked the question took a stumbling step back before he recovered and brandished his sword. Aramis yelled, pulled out his rapier, and dashed forward to strike at him. Blow after blow, the brigand backpedalled. There was no regaining ground from the onslaught. Aramis roared and plunged his blade through the man's heart.

And then he stood in the quiet, breathing harshly, covered in blood.

After a moment Aramis seemed to come back to himself. He wiped off his blade and put it away and then he wandered over to his downed horse. She was still, too still. He dropped to his knees and ran a solemn hand down her neck.

"Thank you…"

He stripped away the saddlebags and got to his feet to assess the situation. It wasn't good. He was stranded in the middle of the woods, miles from civilisation, and he was bleeding profusely. Aramis looked down to the red blooming along his shirt. He suddenly felt lightheaded.

And then a quiet sob drew his attention.

There was a boy kneeling by the man Aramis had killed. The boy from the lake…

Aramis approached carefully. The boy turned to look at him with a tear stained face.

"You killed my father."

"I'm sorry…" Aramis didn't know what to say. Even though the boy's father had attacked them, and he himself had been part of the deception that led to the attack. Aramis could hardly say he deserved it.

An awkward silence fell as Aramis hovered by the grieving boy.

"Have you anyone else? A mother? Brothers? Sisters?"

"No…" He sniffled. "It was just us, until we found those other men."

"Where do you live?"

"Nowhere."

"You must have a home somewhere." Aramis was wracking his brains for what to do. He couldn't just abandon a child in the middle of the woods.

"It was far away, we had to run, it was set on fire."

So that's why there was nobody else…

"Where have you been living?"

"Wherever those men set up camp."

"Is it far?"

The boy turned to him with scared eyes.

"Don't take me back! I don't like it there. They make us do bad things."

"Like pretend to drown in a lake, hm?"

He nodded.

"Alright, you can come with me. We'll find a village soon, somewhere nice and safe."

He hoped…

The world blurred and Aramis found himself on his knees. He clamped a hand to his side with a hiss.

"You're hurt?"

"It's just a scratch, I'll be fine. I'd better see to it though."

Aramis went to his saddlebags and pulled out his sewing kit. He settled himself against a tree away from the boy and pulled up his shirt. On examining the wound he let out a long sigh. The gash was too wide and ragged for needlework. He would have to resort to other more unpleasant means, and sewing your flesh wasn't exactly pleasant in the first place…

He stumbled as he went to retrieve some gunpowder. Then back at the tree his hands shook as he tried to wipe the blood away and spread a line along the edge of the wound. Aramis swore yet again. He needed a fire. He just wasn't thinking clearly.

He felt a presence at his side and blinked furiously until the boy came into focus.

"Do you need help?"

"I'm alright, I can handle this." The tremors seemed to betray his words.

"I've seen plenty of blood Monsieur. Not just my father's."

And those words were a barb directed at his heart.

Aramis swallowed heavily. "Can you light a fire?"

The boy nodded and went about his task. Aramis laid his head back and lost time. A small hand shook him, and his bleary eyes opened to find a fire crackling away before him.

He pointed a weak finger at the fire. "Bring me… bring…"

The lad brought over a flaming stick and wasted no time in putting it to the gunpowder on Aramis' side. It flashed and he screamed. The stench of burning flesh permeated the air. Time fled again. Darkness was falling when Aramis next came to awareness. His eyes fluttered. The boy pushed some bandages into his lax hand. He just couldn't summon enough energy to get up and see to it. His side was agony, albeit an agony that was starting to ebb away slightly with every passing moment.

"Monsieur, you need to bandage your wound." The boy prodded.

"A moment…" Aramis closed his eyes.

" _Monsieur._ "

Aramis growled and heaved himself upright. The boy started to wrap the bandage around his middle.

"I killed your father. Why are you helping me?" The pain and blood loss seemed to loosen his tongue.

"I think you are better than those men." His voice quieted, he almost seemed ashamed. "And you helped me, though I didn't deserve it."

"What those men made you and your father do… It's not your fault. You realise that don't you?"

The boy refused to meet his eyes.

"What is your name?"

"Nicholas."

"I'm Aramis." He held out a shaking hand and the boy took it. "Now, as much as I feel the need to be away from this place, I don't think it wise to blunder about in the dark. I don't think I could manage it anyway. We have a good fire going, I think we should stay here for the night and move at first light. If you look in the carriage there'll be some soft furnishings you can pull out to lie on."

Aramis settled himself against the tree, moments later he felt a cushion being placed behind his head.

He offered Nicholas a smile. "Thank you."

 **~oOo~**

Aramis felt himself being shaken again. He batted at the hands and groaned as his wound flared at the action.

"Monsieur Aramis, I hear men approaching."

And that shocked him fully awake.

Aramis stumbled to his feet and doused the fire. "Quick! Into the trees!"

Luckily it seemed Nicholas had been busy while Aramis was asleep. He had packed away the medical kit, put it back in the saddlebags, and even retrieved Aramis' doublet from down by the lake. Aramis grabbed everything and made to run.

"Nicholas!"

The boy had been running at his side but suddenly backtracked.

"We have to go!"

Nicholas threw himself down by his father's body.

" _Nicholas!_ "

Voices along the road were getting louder.

The boy took something from around his father's neck, wiped his eyes and rejoined Aramis. The two plunged into the trees just in time.

A voice reached them. "Look! The fire, somebody was here."

A sudden rush of energy spurred Aramis onward. He grabbed Nicholas by the wrist and pulled him on. The boy's fist was tight around something. Aramis kept moving as fast as he was able. He paid no attention to the direction and did not look back. Eventually that welcome rush of energy started to ebb away, pain and exhaustion filtered back into Aramis' body and he slowed. The boy too was seeming to struggle, he was a weight at the end of Aramis' arm that became heavier and heavier.

"Monsieur…"

He couldn't stop.

"Monsieur Aramis…"

To stop was to die.

"Please..."

But he stopped.

And for the first time he looked back. The boy was gasping and covered in a sheen of sweat. He realised he was in much the same condition himself.

"I do not think we are being followed." Nicholas shot a look over his shoulder. "You can let go."

At that Aramis looked down to where he gripped the boy's wrist. Slowly he released Nicholas and stepped back. As soon as he was free Nicholas snatched his hand back to his chest and opened his fist to reveal a locket. He stared at it for a long moment before placing it around his neck. As Nicholas looked up Aramis could detect the trace of tears, but he made no mention of it. Instead he braced a hand against his wounded side and stared back at the trees. It was quiet. There was no movement. No sign of pursuit. The branches blurred and Aramis swiped a hand across his eyes. He needed to think.

"What do we do now Monsieur Aramis?"

"We… we'll…"

"Where do we go?"

"Just… just give me a minute." He dropped the saddlebags from his shoulder and went to sit against a tree. He just needed to gather his thoughts.

Nicholas went to sift through the bags and came back with a canteen which he pressed into Aramis' hands.

"Thank you." Aramis took a drink and felt a little better for it.

What were their options? His thoughts moved like mud. He took a deep breath and knocked his head back against the trunk. The others would come for him. This wasn't like… it _wasn't_ … They would come. But first they had to ensure the safety of their charges, and that would take who knows how long. Maybe they would split up, maybe one would come back. They wouldn't leave him. They _wouldn't_.

Aramis screwed his eyes up and held his head in his hands. After a moment a gentle hand at his knee had him looking up.

"Monsieur Aramis? Are you alright?"

He managed a weak smile. "Yes, just tired."

If he wanted to be found, then he would have to move back to the road. He couldn't expect one musketeer to find them in the endless acres of woodland they had blindly charged into. But moving back to the road risked them being found by those that had attacked them in the first place. No… he couldn't put the boy in danger. If they carried on through the woods perhaps they could rejoin the road further on. It was the safer option.

Aramis heaved himself back to his feet. He leaned against the tree as the world took a moment to steady. He blinked furiously and Nicholas came into view, he was holding out the saddlebags. Aramis took them and straightened. He had to pull himself together for both their sakes.

"We'll carry on through the woods a little longer and veer back to the road further on. Hopefully we'll be able to avoid our friends back there."

Nicholas gave a nod and followed on after Aramis.

 **~oOo~**

It was slow going. Aramis' side pained him, and he was beginning to feel a little warm. Although he told himself that was through the exertion of trudging through the woods. Hours slid by, though it was hard to keep track of the feeble sun through the close set branches.

"Monsieur Aramis."

"What?"

"Do you have any food? I could not find any in the saddlebags…"

Aramis sighed. He hadn't packed anything. The journey was not an overly long one and there was an inn at the halfway point where they planned to seek refreshment. He hadn't anticipated being stranded in the middle of nowhere. He wasn't feeling hungry himself, but the boy clearly was. He supposed bands of outlaws might not serve plentiful rations.

"I'm afraid I don't. Perhaps we'll come across a stream where we can catch some fish."

And perhaps a flying horse would come down to take them to Paris. But he had to offer the boy some sliver of hope.

As it happened hope came not in the shape of a stream or a flying horse, but a small hunting cabin. Nicholas spotted it through the trees, a fire burned outside with what looked to be a rabbit cooking over it. Aramis dragged Nicholas back and pushed him down behind a trunk.

"You stay here, I'll go and see if the hunter is friendly and can spare a little food." Aramis pressed a pistol into Nicholas' small hands. "If anybody comes near you, point and squeeze-"

"I've used one before Monsieur Aramis."

Aramis paused in his instructions and stared sadly at the boy before him. He hated to imagine what sort of a life Nicholas had led so far.

"Don't come out and don't follow me, no matter what, you understand?" He waited for the boy to nod. "If I don't come back them make your way to the road. Keep going south east to Paris and find the musketeer garrison. Tell them I sent you."

He gave Nicholas a pat to the shoulder and what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "But I will come back."

He set off towards the cabin. There was no sign of anybody outside, only the fire crackling away made any sound. He supposed the smell of the rabbit would be good if he was in the mood to eat, but the thought of food turned his stomach. Aramis gave a firm knock on the door and stepped back. He made sure his hands were in sight and he seemed no sort of a threat. The door scraped back a few inches and a gun pointed out.

"What do you want?" A gruff voice issued from the shadows within.

"I apologise for disturbing you Monsieur, I've become stranded in the woods after an attack and I am in dire need of food if you have any to spare." His eyes shot suggestively towards the rabbit.

"Go away, I've got nothing for you."

"I can't help but notice the rabbit cooking over the fire just there. All I beg is a few mouthfuls of meat and I'll be on my way."

A strange smile spread on the hunter's face and then Aramis felt a blow to the head. It knocked him to his knees.

"He said there's nothing for you."

Dammit, there was another man. How dull had his senses become that he hadn't noticed? The newcomer gave Aramis a kick to the side. He cried out at the pain of his wound being struck and fell onto his back in the dirt.

"Come to steal have you? Is that your game?"

Aramis held his hands up in supplication. "No Monsieur! As I told your friend, I've become stranded and just need a little food! I'm a musketeer, look!"

He motioned to his pauldron. The two men did indeed look, but their expressions did not turn suddenly reverent, if anything, they became predatory.

"He's a King's man, brother." The second man said to the first. "What do you think about that?"

"I think his fancy armour and his fancy King mean nothing here."

"That's right." He knelt down next to Aramis and pulled out a long knife. "You're in the wild now, fancy man. We play by different rules out here."

A bang sounded and blood spattered across Aramis as the hunter's head snapped to one side. He fell down, limp, dead. Aramis stared in momentary confusion at those sightless eyes before his attention was drawn to the shooter. Nicholas stood there, pistol held out, even at a distance Aramis could see him shaking.

"Drop it boy!" The other hunter had his gun trained on Nicholas.

And Aramis took his chance. He viciously kicked out at the hunter's knee, and it crunched unnaturally sideways. He dropped with a howl and Aramis snatched the gun from his hands, surged to his knees and beat the hunter over the head. When he lay still Aramis sat back, gasping for breath. He pushed the gun to one side and dragged himself away from the two bodies. He looked over to Nicholas. The boy still stood with the pistol outstretched.

"Nicholas…" Aramis waved at him to come over.

He stood frozen. Wide eyed.

"Nicholas, come here."

Slowly the pistol dropped to his side and he made his way over to Aramis.

"Thank you." Aramis took the offered pistol back and stifled a hiss when Nicholas suddenly came in to hug him. "It's alright, it's over. They can't hurt you."

"They were going to hurt _you_." Nicholas shuddered out between sobs.

"And you saved me."

"I killed him. Just like those men killed-"

"You are nothing like them." Aramis cut the boy off and pulled back so he could look Nicholas in his tearful eyes. "You didn't have a choice. Sometimes bad men force us to do bad acts, but that doesn't make you bad. Not as long as you remain good in here." He put his hand to Nicholas' chest.

And he did have one choice. He could have run away and let Aramis be killed, but he stood and fought when he didn't have to. To Aramis that spoke volumes.

Nicholas wiped at his eyes and drew his sleeve across his nose.

"There we go. Now why don't you go inside. I think the weather is going to turn against us and night will be falling soon. We might as well spend it somewhere dry." And he felt in desperate need of a lie down. As well as his side, his head was killing him. "I'll sort the rabbit out and see you in there."

Aramis waited until Nicholas had gone in. He didn't want the lad seeing him struggle to his feet. And it was a struggle. His side screamed at him, it felt damp, no doubt the kick had set it off bleeding. But he had work to do before he could rest. Aramis dragged the bodies out of the way though it near enough killed him to do so, and then he went to retrieve the rabbit. He made it inside just in time as the grey clouds that had gathered overhead released their rain.

Once Nicholas was settled down with some food, Aramis sank down onto one of the two straw pallets the cabin had to offer. It was covered in a threadbare blanket. He ripped a strip off to bundle against his side. Aramis couldn't face burning the wound shut again, and it hadn't reopened entirely. He was sure he could staunch the flow. His eyes wandered to Nicholas as he tried to subtly hold the wad of material beneath his shirt. The boy ate as if he'd been starved for a week. Maybe he had. Then suddenly he stopped and his head shot up.

"Forgive me Monsieur Aramis! Would you like some?"

"No, it's alright. I had a bite before I brought it in."

In truth, he really couldn't face eating anything. But it wouldn't do to worry the boy. He really wanted to have a look around the cabin, there might be something useful to take with them. Perhaps weapons or rations. But Aramis found weariness pulled at his bones. He told himself he would lie and wait until the bleeding had stopped, then he would get up. He would just be a moment. He was just going to close his eyes for a moment and listen to the lashing of rain against the cabin. There was something strangely soothing about it...

A roll of thunder suddenly brought Aramis to awareness. He sat up, wide eyed and panting. It was pitch black, aside from the occasional flash of lightning that brought the cabin into stark relief. He looked down to the warm bundle pressed against his side and found Nicholas curled up beside him. Aramis' breath settled. Another crack made him jerk, he swallowed heavily. It was just the weather, how could he be scared of a little thunder? But it was something else that had him on edge, something that chased him from his sleep. A place where it was cold, where the vague feeling of abandonment lingered. Aramis settled back down and pulled the thin blanket over himself and Nicholas. It was just dreams, it was just weather. And tomorrow they would be found.

A persistent shaking pulled Aramis from his sleep the next day. His gummy eyes took an age to flicker open, and he rolled onto his back with a moan.

"Monsieur Aramis."

He was shaken again.

"M'awake." He mumbled and covered his eyes with an arm.

"You took a long time to wake up Monsieur. I was worried."

Aramis withdrew the arm to look at Nicholas.

"Don't be, I was just very tired. But I'm feeling much better now after a good sleep."

He felt worse, but he wasn't going to let the boy know that. Nicholas looked at him strangely sheepishly.

"I hope you don't mind Monsieur."

"Mind what?"

Nicholas motioned to himself beside Aramis on the pallet.

"I was cold, and you were so warm."

Yes, he was warm, too warm. Part of Aramis couldn't help but think. He should really look at the wound, but there was nothing to be done for it out here, and deep down he was scared of what he might find…

"It's quite alright. Now we should get moving. Has it stopped raining?" The sound of lashing rain had abated, but that didn't mean it had stopped.

Nicholas got to his feet and went to the door. Aramis took the chance to slowly push himself into a sitting position.

"It is still raining a little, but nothing like last night!"

"Good, a little we can manage. We should have a look around this place for some food before we go, make sure you eat something."

Aramis really meant to join in, but he ended up watching Nicholas ferret about. The boy came to push some biscuits into Aramis' hand, before eating himself and putting a few bits away in their bags. Aramis half heartedly nibbled at the biscuits. He couldn't finish them all and told himself he would put what was left away for Nicholas.

Then came the moment he had to get up. He looked at the floor and sighed. Getting up had been so easy before, why was it such a struggle now? He felt weak as a kitten. Nicholas seemed to sense his difficulty and came to help pull Aramis to his feet. Once upright he lurched forwards and braced himself on the table, head hung low between his shoulders. The biscuits threatened a reappearance, but Aramis swallowed frantically and gradually recovered.

He could feel Nicholas' worried eyes on him, and just waited for the small voice… _Monsieur Aramis_ … but it didn't come. Perhaps there was no point asking Aramis if he was alright, it was patently obvious now that he wasn't. Still, he was going to carry on, he wasn't going to give in. Aramis straightened and took a deep breath before heading for the door.

He picked up the saddlebags and they went out into the rain. Under the trees it wasn't so bad, but the air was cold, and Nicholas was in nothing but a dirty shirt.

"Come here." Aramis put down the saddlebags and shucked out of his doublet. "It's going to be a little big, but at least it will be warm."

He helped Nicholas into his doublet and couldn't help but smile. It came past the boys knees and the sleeves were far too long. Nicholas gave a word of thanks and then his eyes caught the bloom of scarlet on Aramis' shirt.

"I'm alright, it's old blood. Let's keep moving."

Aramis kept one arm clamped around his midsection and forged onwards, trying to give the impression of strength. Perhaps if he believed it enough they would make it.

Unfortunately belief wasn't enough to power his limbs. Aramis slowed to a snail's pace, and Nicholas who once tailed him drew ahead. The rain had soaked the trees through and now it dripped in heavy drops from branches and leaves. Aramis was gradually getting soaked himself. He realised he was beginning to shake, but he couldn't feel the cold. He was warm. It felt like a hot summer's day. His clouded thoughts kept wandering, but his eyes were locked on Nicholas ahead. The boy kept glancing back, as if to check he was still there and still on his feet. Aramis began to wonder where they were going, and what time it was. It was hard to tell with branches obscuring nothing more than thick grey clouds. The trees all around looked the same. A sliver of panic took Aramis' heart. Were they going the right way? He didn't know. He didn't know where they were.

"Nicholas!" His voice was weak. "Nicholas, stop…"

He dropped the saddlebags and bent to place his hands on his knees.

Suddenly Nicholas was in front of him.

"Monsieur Aramis?"

"I just need a moment."

Nicholas took his hand and pulled him over to the base of a tree before retrieving the saddlebags and pulling out some biscuits. Aramis shook his head and motioned for Nicholas to eat them. The boy nibbled with worried eyes.

Aramis' breaths were coming heavily. He wanted to admit that he didn't know where they were, he didn't know if they were going in the right direction…

"Monsieur Aramis, the road is just ahead. The trees thin out and I am sure I saw the road."

His heart lightened.

"Good… that's good. We'll just rest for a moment and take a look."

Aramis' eyes flickered and he drifted. At some point he became aware of his doublet being draped around him, but he couldn't summon the energy to object.

"Monsieur Aramis, I hear a cart!" Nicholas was on his feet and off like a shot.

Aramis cursed and tried to get to his feet. He fell back and cried out as it jarred his wound.

Voices filtered through the trees.

"Monsieur! Monsieur! Please stop!"

"What do you want boy?"

"Just a ride on your cart, to wherever you're going."

"Can't you see my cart's full you fool?"

"We won't take up much room, I beg of you, please!"

"There is no room, I need to sell all this at market. Now be off with you!"

"My friend is hurt! I don't think he's well, please take us with you!"

"I said away boy!"

"Look, I have this, a locket. Please take this in payment."

"A worthless trinket, or did you steal it? My wares are worth more than that and I'll not have you in the back stealing from me either! Now back away or get knocked down!"

A crack and a neigh told Aramis how that exchange had ended.

Moments later a sorrowful Nicholas came into view dragging his heels.

"I'm sorry Monsieur Aramis, I tried."

"I know you did, never mind. You are a far better man than he. Come here."

He pulled Nicholas to sit beside him under the doublet.

Aramis drifted again. Consciousness gradually came back as Nicholas patted at his face. He felt on fire, those cold feather light fingers drew him back. It was so much effort just to rouse. A canteen was pushed against his lips, his weak hands took it and blessed cold water ran into his mouth.

"Nicholas?"

"Monsieur Aramis, we should move, before it gets dark."

"Right… you're right." He needed to get to the road, he had to get help for Nicholas. He felt like he was being stabbed in the side and he was only going to get sicker the longer they delayed… Sicker and less able to save Nicholas.

Aramis pushed to his knees, fought against his shaking limbs and made it to his feet. Nicholas by his side tried to help steady him.

"I'm up, I'm ok."

Aramis wrapped his doublet back around Nicholas, he tried to take the saddlebags but the boy picked them up and wouldn't let them go. Nicholas set off towards the road and Aramis followed. He nearly dropped to his knees in blessed relief as his feet hit the dirt path. They had made it. They had nearly made it. For they still had to follow the path to civilisation. Unless a more kindly stranger or his brothers happened by. But the rain started to come down more heavily as they trudged along, and there were few people on the little used path. One cantered by at a fast pace, eager to be out of the rain. They hadn't even slowed to see Nicholas waving, and Aramis weakly cautioned him against jumping in front of horses. Their slow going got even slower. Aramis was soaked, exhausted, and burning up. His side was a constant pain and his mind was filled with fog. But he kept his eyes on Nicholas ahead, and put one foot in front of the other. The boy's worried eyes looked back as before, the worry became tainted by fear over time.

Step by step.

He just had to keep on walking.

And then after just one more step his leg failed to hold him. Aramis collapsed to his knees, and then to the ground. He thought he saw Nicholas mouthing ' _Monsieur Aramis!_ ' before his vision whited out. He blinked slowly, until the world came back. Then he coughed, he couldn't get up, he just couldn't find the strength in his limbs. Nicholas pulled at his arm, but it felt like it wasn't part of him.

"Father, please, lend me the strength just to go a little further…"

Nicholas dropped his arm and ran away.

Perhaps he had finally realised Aramis was a lost cause.

"Let him be safe, Father. If you're taking me, let him…"

"Monsieur Aramis!"

He managed to lift his head and blink through the rain to see Nicholas excitedly jumping up and down. He was pointing at something on the road ahead. A sign. A village sign. Aramis could have cried with relief. He forced himself to his feet through sheer will alone. Beyond the sign were a few of the village's outlying buildings. He hadn't seen them through the rain and the failing light. Aramis stumbled on with Nicholas walking ahead with determination. He wished the boy would slow down, he wished he could just stop, just fall down right where he was and sleep. Maybe he could, they had made it to a village, Nicholas would be safe. Maybe he could let go… No, not yet, he didn't know who lived in this village, he didn't know it was safe. He had to make sure.

But amidst his swirling thoughts they had wound around the village streets, turned a corner, another corner, and Aramis had lost track of Nicholas.

Panic seized his heart, a wave of dizziness took his senses. Aramis caught himself on the cold stone of the nearest building.

"Nicholas!" His weak voice barely carried through the cold night. "Nicholas! Come back!"

He called out again and again until his voice failed and his legs failed soon after. Aramis sunk down onto the wet, cold ground. He felt so detached from his body. The constant pain of his side had faded away to white noise. He was burning. But he couldn't bring himself to care. He was dying. And it seemed easier just to let go…

A door opened nearby.

"Monsieur? What are you doing down there?" Somebody shook him. "Monsieur?"

Voices spoke over his head, and then he was being pulled to his feet.

"Nicholas, I have to find Nicholas…" Aramis whispered. "I lost him. He's alone."

"Who is Nicholas?"

Aramis' eyes flickered, he found a kindly looking old man before him. Another man, younger, held him up by the arm.

"He's a child. He's my friend. Please, help me find him…" His knees went suddenly weak, but the men were there to take his weight.

"Don't worry, we'll find him. But first we have to get you inside. You're frozen and wet through."

Between them they got him inside and settled him in a chair by the fire.

"Marie! Get word out to the village, there's a missing child needs to be found. Those newcomers at the inn, they'll help. Quick now!"

There was a flurry of activity around him. Aramis found his wet clothes being stripped away. His side was poked at, and then he was wrapped in blankets. Voices ebbed and flowed. The door opened and closed. It all seemed so distant, but one thought nagged at him persistently. He had to find Nicholas.

Aramis tried to push the blankets away, but his hand was restrained and they were pulled back up.

"Nicholas…"

"Hush now. Just rest, we're looking." A woman's spoke nearby.

"He's alone…"

"Don't worry, we'll find him. Now sleep."

It was so tempting to give in. She was rubbing at his hand in a soothing way and everything in him felt so heavy. The voices were quieter now. He closed his eyes and drifted.

The door went again, and then amongst the voices he couldn't recognise was one that cut through all else.

"Aramis!"

It sounded like…

"Thank God, we feared the worst!"

Porthos!

He tried to push himself up, but he hadn't the strength. Between one breath and the next he was bundled up in a bear hug and smothered against Porthos' chest. When finally he drew back Athos and d'Artagnan could be seen over his shoulder. Aramis managed a smile.

Porthos clutched his face between his hands. "We've been that worried about you." Then he frowned. "You're warm."

Some discussion went on over his head and Aramis' eyes drifted closed of their own accord.

"No, none of that. Stay awake."

The blanket was pulled away and his shirt was pulled up. Hands probed at his wound. The pain spiked and he spiraled into oblivion.

 **~oOo~**

Aramis woke to the steady patter of rain against a pane of glass. He was pleasantly warm and in a bed, that much he could discern. His side was a persistent throb, and tiredness plagued his limbs.

"You awake?"

He lolled his head to one side to find Porthos in a chair at his bedside.

"You with me?"

Aramis managed a nod.

"You've been out of it a good long time. That wound of yours turned nasty, fever took hold. There was no surgeon in that village so we had to rush you back to Paris. I don't suppose you remember anything of it?"

He shook his head.

"Probably for the best. It wouldn't have been pleasant."

"Wha… what happened?" Aramis' voice felt rough and worn.

Porthos helped him to a drink while he explained. "After the fight we didn't stop until we reached the village. We hoped you would catch up… but you didn't appear. The King's cousin would not hear of going back. So d'Artagnan and Athos pressed on and got them to Paris, we agreed to meet back at the village inn, and I went to look for you alone." Porthos paused and placed his hand over Aramis'. "I found your horse, and feared the worst. But you weren't there, and your saddlebags were missing. I knew you were alive. I searched, I looked for you for hours."

Suddenly a thought struck Aramis. "Nicholas!"

At that Porthos smiled. "Let me finish. Eventually I had to go back to the inn to meet up with the others. There was no sign of you and I needed their help. We were going to try and get a search party together when d'Artagnan spotted a face at the window. It was a boy. He recognised the lad, and didn't seem at all pleased for that matter. But once the boy was inside he garbled about a 'Monsieur Aramis' and pointed at our pauldrons and d'Artagnan. He was all worked up that was for sure. As soon as he mentioned your name we followed him outside only to bump into somebody looking for the boy. We were led back to you. Some kindly strangers had taken you in. There were some nice folk out there."

Aramis smiled bitterly. "We met some not so nice ones… Where is Nicholas?"

There was a slight knock at the door.

"Speak of the devil. I'm sure that's him. He's been yammering on endlessly about his 'Monsieur Aramis'. Hold on."

Porthos got up to open the door.

An excited voice could be heard on the other side. "How is Monsieur Aramis? Can I see him today?"

"Yes, alright, come in, but be gentle with him."

d'Artagnan and Nicholas stepped inside. The boy's face lit up and he dashed to Aramis side, only to stop suddenly at the bed, as if recalling Porthos' warning to be gentle.

"Monsieur Aramis! I am so happy that you are well!"

He summoned up a smile for the boy. "Thanks to you."

"You were so sick, but I found your friends and they came to help you."

"They did, and I'm feeling much better now."

"Monsieur Aramis, Paris is so big! Monsieur d'Artagnan has been showing me around. I think I will like it here."

"You're staying?" Aramis had wondered what would happen to the boy. Orphaned children rarely fared well.

"Captain Treville said I can help in the stables, and when I am big enough I can train to be just like you!"

"That's good…" Aramis stifled a yawn.

d'Artagnan noticed. "Alright, I think that's enough for now. Aramis needs a rest after all this excitement."

He ushered the boy out and Porthos grinned at Aramis. "He's a good lad, but d'Artagnan mentioned he was the one who drew you to the lake. It was the set up for the whole attack. How did he end up with you?"

"I killed his father." Aramis said bluntly. "He had no other family, the two of them had fallen in with those brigands. I couldn't leave him out there to die, or worse… for them to find him."

"You did well. You can't judge a man, let alone a child, by the company he keeps. He'll have a better life now."

"He has a kind heart, a beautiful soul. He took a locket from around his father's neck and offered it in exchange for my life. He deserves a better life, a chance to shine and show the world…"

"Hush, you're tired and getting all poetic. You did good in saving him. Sleep now." Porthos settled Aramis down.

"He saved me…" Aramis muttered muzzily as he drifted away.

"And I'm sure he'll save many more in the years to come. Especially with you as an example. Not sure your soul's as beautiful though."

But to that there was no reply.

 _This place could be beautiful,  
_ _right? You could make this place beautiful._


	10. Bruises

**AN:** This one hurt my heart a little bit...

We're in season 3, post Prisoner of War. Quote is from "Black Eyes" by Radical Face.

* * *

 **10\. Bruises**

 _My heart will be blacker than your eyes when I'm through with you_

When he lifted his head, she barely recognised him for the bruises.

"Who did this?" She raised a hand to brush at his marred cheek but Aramis caught it first.

"It doesn't matter." His voice was harsh through split lips.

"It matters. Have they been punished?"

"No, and I do not want them to be." He released her hand after holding it a moment too long. "Please, I did not come to speak of this."

"Then what did you come to speak of?" Anne stepped back, near sensing the rift that was about to open up.

"We need to stop meeting, we need to stop… doing this. A long time ago we made a promise, it's time to uphold it."

Her eyes shone as they watched his marked face. "Is that what you want?"

"No, but it is what has to be. For all our sakes."

She couldn't speak. Their efforts had turned to dust this time. But was that reason to stop trying? More than matters of state Anne needed these moments for herself. To know love, to see and touch it.

"As you wish."

So she would return to her gilded cage and weep for what she had lost.

"I am sorry, Majesty. I wish it were not so."

And that title passing between his lips seemed to close a door between them. She was his Queen again, and nothing more.

Her hand crept up to his cheek unbidden, and this time he allowed it. "Then tell me, before you go, who would harm one of my musketeers?"

Aramis let out a long breath before answering. His hesitation was evident.

"Porthos."

 **~oOo~**

 _Earlier…_

Aramis had watched Porthos dispatch each new recruit in turn. It might have been his imagination but there was something vitriolic about it. Porthos barely said a word, he growled and grunted and used a little more force than was perhaps necessary. The weather took a turn, as if seeking to reflect his mood. Dark clouds gathered and a steady rainfall started up. The remaining watchers filtered away and the defeated recruits left to lick their wounds. There was only one remaining, one who Porthos had in a headlock. His face was reddening by the minute.

Aramis got to his feet, intending to go inside with the others. But he caught the wide eyes of the poor recruit and thought he'd better say something.

"Porthos! Let him go. You've won this one, you've won them all."

Abruptly Porthos dropped the lad who collapsed to his hands and knees in the dirt that was rapidly turning to mud. After gasping for a few moments he scrambled to his feet and got away.

"Not all." Porthos turned dark eyes on Aramis.

"What do you mean?"

"I still see you standing there. Unless you fear the rain, little peacock?"

Aramis frowned at the jibe, but he moved to shuck off his doublet all the same. If Porthos needed to work out some anger, he would match him blow for blow.

They started their dance. A once familiar routine that had become less so over the years of absence. A few testing jabs were traded back and forth. Porthos darted just out of reach every time Aramis went for him.

"Come on then, let's see what you've got!" Aramis was losing patience out in the rain.

And that prompted a punch that let Aramis know he meant business. Porthos let loose and Aramis rocked back from the blow. He spat blood out to one side and raised his fists. The game was on. And that viciousness Aramis had detected came out in full force. No punches were being pulled. But Aramis was determined not to back down. One particularly nasty blow to the ribs stole his breath. He curled an arm around them and raised a hand.

"Do you need to hit so hard?" He was bent over, rapidly trying to blink the rain from his eyes.

He didn't see the punch coming for his face. It knocked him to his knees.

"Gone soft have you?" Porthos roared.

"Porthos…"

He kicked out at Aramis then. "After you ran off to the monastery!"

Another punch landed, Aramis raised his arms to fend it off but Porthos' fist ran straight through.

"You're always running off! Always trying to do things by yourself! 'All for one'... Did it ever mean anything to you?!" Porthos threw his arms in the air and turned away.

Aramis took the opportunity to struggle to his feet. "Y… yes."

"Then why did you tell me to shoot you?! Why would you ask that of me?!" Porthos came barrelling straight back to grasp the front of Aramis' sodden shirt and throw him backwards.

Aramis lost his footing and hit the ground. He rolled to one side and pushed himself up. The world was starting to spin now, and together with the blinding rain he could hardly see. "...'m sorry"

Aramis shakily found his feet and raised his fists. He wasn't done yet. Not by far.

But Porthos knocked him back to the churned mud with a fist to the face. Aramis lay there gasping for a long moment and then he splayed his hands in an effort to get up.

"Stay down!" Porthos' blurry figure pointed and yelled.

He got up. Blood streamed from his nose. He didn't care. He had to keep going. Aramis wasn't sure why. It wasn't defiance, it wasn't anger. It was…

He threw a weak punch at Porthos. Porthos caught his fist and kicked his legs out from under him.

"I said - stay down!" Porthos stalked away after landing Aramis flat on his back. Then he turned abruptly to round on him again. "You're always running away! Always leaving! You left us, you left me!"

Though his strength was all but gone, Aramis rolled over and pushed himself up to sit in the mud. Before he got any further Porthos grasped the front of his shirt and landed another punch.

"You stupid fool! Why won't you stay down?! Don't you know when you're beaten?!"

Through cracked and bleeding lips Aramis' voice was barely audible. "... 'm not g'nna leave you."

Another blow came. "I needed you! And you left!"

"...'m here, P'thos."

And suddenly he was dropped. Aramis fell onto his side, face half pressed into the mud, his blood ran with the rain. He drew an arm up, still driven by the need to stand, to fight. But he had no strength, the limb lay useless next to his damaged face. His breath hurt as it hammered in and out of his chest, he blinked rapidly, trying to clear the encroaching darkness.

The sound of a horse filtered through his hazy consciousness. And then Athos' voice.

"What have you done? Porthos… what have you done?"

 **~oOo~**

He came to in a darkened room. Aramis lazily blinked his eyes until he registered a candle at his bedside and a figure asleep in the chair next to him. Athos. And then the pain hit. His face felt a mess, his ribs weren't much better. Even just breathing hurt. He failed to suppress a cough and curled up against the resulting stab from his ribs. The motion woke Athos, who sat forwards and put a hand to his shoulder.

"Easy, you're in the infirmary. The physician thinks you've got a couple of cracked ribs. Luckily not broken, and a lot more bruised besides. By some miracle there's no lasting damage to your face either."

"Feels like it." Aramis managed to huff out.

"Yes well, your dashing good looks have suffered slightly to say the least. You might want to wait a while before visiting any of your tavern girls, I'm not sure they'd recognise you in this state."

"Where is he?"

"Porthos? I can't say. I told him to get out. I'd half a mind to have him locked up when I saw him standing over your lifeless body."

"Not his fault."

"I missed the action, but I think it's quite clear what happened."

"My fault."

Athos frowned. "You think you deserve… this?"

Aramis nodded, talking hurt.

"What makes you think that?"

"I left." Aramis paused to swallow and wince. He tried to keep his words short. "Did it again."

Athos sat back with a sigh. "I see. You have to understand… war is hard, you know this. It is harder still without a brother, without the one you trust to watch your back. We missed you, Porthos most of all. Forgiveness will not come easily. Especially not when you go plotting behind our backs with the one person you should be keeping your distance from."

Aramis closed his eyes with a careful sigh of his own. "Then - tell to shoot me."

"Yes, and then you tell him to shoot you." Athos ran a tired hand over his face. "Dear Lord, Aramis, you are the most infuriating and reckless of fools. You always have been, and I suspect you always will be. But Porthos should not have beaten you so. Do you want me to do something? You are both my men, and I am your Captain."

"No."

"Very well."

Aramis shifted uneasily.

"What is the matter?"

"How… how to fix?"

"There is one thing you could do to make amends to us, to him, and most importantly to save yourself."

Aramis raised his eyebrows in question.

"Stop seeing her. You will only set eyes on her as part of your duties, and I will do my best to see that those encounters are minimal."

Aramis swallowed heavily and gave a slight nod.

"Good. I'll leave you to rest now. There's somebody I have to find…"

 **~oOo~**

The next time Aramis blinked to awareness he startled at seeing a shadow looming over the bed.

"It's alright, it's just me."

The figure sat down. Porthos.

Though knowing who it was didn't settle his heart any considering their last meeting.

"God, Aramis… I'm sorry."

Porthos reached for Aramis' hand, but he drew it away.

"Look what I've done to you. I don't know what came over me…" He drew his fist to his chest. "I was just so angry, it burnt through my heart and came out at you. The anger, it was because you didn't see, you didn't know..."

Porthos looked at Aramis expectantly, as if waiting for him to say something. But nothing was forthcoming and so he took a deep breath and continued.

"I'm no good at explaining, not these things at least." He sighed. "You just throw your life away so easily... jumping on bombs… at the end of a pistol… I don't think you know how much it would hurt us to lose you. How much it would hurt _me_. Every time you leave it hurts. And out there, in the middle of hell, every reminder of your absence was like a wound torn anew."

Porthos sat back with a bitter laugh. "Now look, I hurt you and only hurt myself in doing so. I didn't want to hurt you. I just… I just want you to see. Please don't leave."

Aramis reached out a hand, and Porthos took it.

"I'm here, Porthos."


End file.
